


Not Most People

by Arcadias_Fire



Series: Fractures [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Magic, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Art, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hey Where'd that Magic Come From?, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Incest, M/M, Magic, Multiverse, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28661955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcadias_Fire/pseuds/Arcadias_Fire
Summary: Tom has excellent, if unusual taste. A weakness for beautiful, wicked smiles, and those who he really,trulyshouldnotcrave.Luckily the object of his desire does what he wants.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Past Loki/Stephen Strange, Tom Hiddleston/Loki
Series: Fractures [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100501
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	1. The Boy with a Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to _Taste and Taboo_ and continues the highly illegal, immoral relationship of that story. Tom is no longer underage, but references are made to that time frame. If this will bother you, please feel free to skip the story. It should stand on its own, if you want to skip the under age story.

When Tom graduated from Eton, he and a few of his mates went on holiday to the continent. A few days in Rome, a few in Madrid, another few in Paris, all the usual things. The group was scholarly enough that they enjoyed the museums and such available, as well as the inexpensive, free-flowing wine. Tom may or may not have found himself in one of his friend’s beds in the wee hours of the morning, finally giving in to the temptation of the other boy’s wicked smile. 

Tom had a weakness for wicked smiles. 

His mates would return to England after the last few days in Paris, but Tom had other plans. Plans that had nothing to do with his classmates’ smiles or beds. He had a secret. One that he’d kept close to his heart for two and a half years, and never allowed out into the light. So when the others left, headed back to their families or whatever they had planned for the summer, Tom stayed in Paris. His parents knew that he was staying, and even approved of who he was staying _with_. They trusted him to keep out of trouble. After a few rough patches when he was fifteen, he’d kept his nose clean and acted the dutiful son. His father had laughed and told him to stay clear of French men who might want a piece of a handsome British teenager. Tom had rolled his eyes and declared that he had better taste than that. 

And he did. In Tom’s own opinion he had _excellent,_ if unusual taste. 

The morning after his mates left him on his own, Tom returned to a small gallery that had caught his eye their first day in Paris. The gallery had a few very impressive pieces, but in a back corner was a lovely Renoir that he couldn’t stop looking at. The piece was mostly dark with a brightly contrasting nude figure just off its center. It wasn’t especially sexualized, just a boy, perhaps fourteen at the oldest, looking over his shoulder at the painter. Pale skin, dark hair and eyes, a cat sitting before him. The boy had clearly been petting the cat when he was distracted. The look the boy gave the artist and viewer was “what? Can’t a bloke pet a cat while naked in peace?” 

Tom loved it. He couldn’t exactly say why, though he had some theories. He’d known that he was gay - or at least fancied boys - since he was thirteen, but again, the image wasn’t particuly sexual. It was the subject’s attitude and the contrast of the composition that caught his eye, not just the boy’s elegant back. He stared at the painting, taking the rich green and cream-colored fabric in the background, the soft-looking fur of the cat, all along with the pale skin that almost glowed. 

“Shall I acquire a print of that for you?” 

Tom started and looked over his shoulder, a grin spreading across his face. “As long as you don’t nick it, certainly.” 

A dark chuckle was his reply. “My dearest nephew, as though I would steal a gift for you.” 

Tom’s heart raced and his smile widened. It had been months since he’d seen his uncle. Long, aching months. All he wanted was to throw himself into the older man’s embrace, kiss the months away until neither of them could breathe, but not even Paris was so liberal. Anyone who looked at the two of them together would _know_ that they were related. Through some genetic quirk, Tom and his uncle Loki looked virtually identical, save for their coloring. Loki was Tom’s senior by eighteen years - old enough to be his father - though it looked like no more than ten, making them appear more like brothers. Loki never seemed to age, at least in Tom’s eyes. He certainly didn’t look like he was in his mid 30s. He’d barely changed at all since Tom fell in love with him five years ago. 

Tom allowed himself to draw Loki into a hug, which was instantly returned. That was safe. A familial embrace. Perhaps a touch more intimate than one might expect, but quick enough that no one would notice that their hips were too close, and hands lingered. 

“How did you find me?” Tom asked in the moments after they parted. A question was a good way to distract himself from his uncle’s beautiful - _wicked_ \- smile. 

“I actually saw you earlier this morning, on your way in here,” Loki replied easily. “When you hadn’t come out an hour later, I decided to see what had drawn your attention.” The older man’s pale eyes went to the painting. “Renoir?” 

Tom nodded and turned his own gaze back to the painting. “I can’t stop looking at it, for some reason.” 

Loki chuckled again and stepped in a little closer to the picture. “It’s clearly the cat.” He smiled over his shoulder at Tom, mimicking the pose of the dark-haired, fair-skinned boy far too closely to be a coincidence. “I can see the appeal.” 

Tom stifled a laugh. “I’m sure you can.” 

Loki’s eyes flowed over Tom in an appreciative way. “As you know, I do prefer blonds.” 

Tom blushed and fought the urge to pat his golden curls. “Didn’t your ex have dark hair?” 

“He did.” Loki straightened his spine and a shadow darkened in his gaze. “Perhaps that’s why my preferences have changed.” 

Tom immediately regretted bringing up Loki’s ex-boyfriend. If Tom ever met Loki’s former lover, he’d punch the older man in the face, respected doctor or not. He’d been emotionally abusive and Loki still bore scars from that callous disregard and maltreatment. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Loki smiled brightly again. “If you’ve had your fill of painted young men for the day, I should like to take you to lunch.” 

Tom smiled again, thankful for a way out of the faux pas. “I’d much rather have the real thing,” he replied quietly enough that only Loki could hear him, then continued more loudly. “Lunch sounds wonderful.” 

The two left the gallery and went out into the streets of Paris. Loki lived here at the moment, and knew his way around the city as well as any native. They were both fluent in French, thanks to the Classical education they’d both acquired. It amused Tom no end to know that Loki’s experiences at Eton had been remarkably similar to his own, despite the two decades between. 

Loki led Tom down a narrow side street to a small cafe he normally wouldn’t have given a second glance. The young woman behind the counter smiled widely at them both and addressed Loki by name. She showed them to a secluded table near the back, all the while keeping an energetic conversation with Loki in rapid-fire French. It was brisk enough that Tom lost the jist of it, though he did hear “petit frère?” and Loki’s denying “non”. 

Tom sighed and shook his head as they sat. “Everyone thinks that, don’t they?” 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “That we’re brothers? Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s funny, very few people ever thought that I was Thor’s younger brother, despite actually having the same mother.” 

Tom shrugged and hunched over on himself. “I’m sorry.” 

Loki didn’t challenge the apology, but he did sigh. “I would rather shout it to the sky, you know. I would rather claim ‘petit ami’ than ‘petit frère’.” 

“Let alone ‘neveu’.” Tom fidgeted with his utensils. “You were right, back then. There’s no way to avoid those questions.” 

“Given that we’re even more similar now than when you were fifteen, yes.” Loki leaned forward across the small table. “It doesn’t matter. We knew that it would be like this. Let’s just take advantage of the time we have together, and thank the stars that my brother is a trusting oaf.” 

Tom laughed. “I suppose you’re right. He and Mum were hesitant about letting me stay on for a while on my own, but when I said I would stay with you, they agreed instantly.” He straightened up and adopted a deeper tone, like his father’s booming voice. “‘Perhaps you can keep my little brother out of trouble while you’re there?’” 

Loki leaned back in his chair and laughed. “If Thor thinks _you_ can keep _me_ out of trouble…” He shook his head. “Ah well, perhaps he’s less of an oaf than I thought.” 

Tom giggled. “I’ll do my best to follow his wishes on the matter.” 

Loki gave him a wicked grin. “I’m sure you will. Mostly by keeping me at home, no doubt.” 

Tom’s heart thudded hard in his chest. He was certain his face was bright red. “It’s the best way to keep an eye on you.” 

Loki’s smile grew. “I will never leave your sight if that’s what it takes to earn my brother’s trust.” 

They both laughed and turned their attention to the meal. 

Lunch was delicious, but lasted far too long for Tom’s liking. They took a brief jaunt back to the hotel to pick up Tom’s luggage, and then went along to Loki’s second floor flat. Tom had seen pictures, but hadn’t been here since Loki moved in a few months ago. It was small, but airy, light pouring in from the street. Loki had finally published one of his novels, and the extra funds allowed him to live in a nicer place. But Tom barely took in the sun-lit space. Instead, the moment the door closed, he pulled Loki into the kiss he’d been dying for all morning. 

Loki moaned into his mouth and pulled Tom’s hips tight against his own. In the months since they’d last kissed, Tom had imagined this moment over and over. Finally kissing Loki again. Feeling his skin in reality, not just fantasy. Every other lover Tom had paled in comparison, not just because Loki was more experienced, but because his very being sang to Tom’s soul. 

He was addicted to the older man, and had been since he was old enough to want the kisses Loki now rained down on his lips. Loki hadn’t ever done anything to encourage Tom’s teenage crush, but Tom persisted. He had to _seduce_ his uncle, driven by raging hormones and the older man’s nearness to act on his desperation. After several attempts to end the encounter - which Tom, to his shame, had ignored - Loki succumbed, and they’d been lovers ever since, hiding their relationship from everyone. 

Tom ran his hands over Loki’s chest and back, licking his way into the older man’s mouth, reveling in the sounds he made. Tom was on fire, dying for the kisses, the caresses, the acres of creamy white skin. He stripped away Loki’s clothes, even as Loki bared Tom’s flesh with his own heated hands. 

They stumbled back into the sitting room, Loki guiding them to the sofa. Tom removed the last scraps of both their clothing and worshipped the older man’s skin with hands and teeth and tongue. He licked around the edges of Loki’s tattoos, knowing well that each centimeter of inked skin was more sensitive than its neighbor. Each gasp his uncle let out going straight to Tom’s cock. He could do this all night and be happy. 

But Loki laced his fingers through Tom’s curls and drew him up into a kiss. Tom climbed into his lap, bringing their hips together. He loved sitting in Loki’s lap, even if it meant he had to look down at his lover’s face, rather than directly into his eyes as he’d been able to when he was younger. 

Now they were exactly the same height, bodies aligned perfectly no matter what position they were in. Tom scraped his teeth across Loki’s neck and shoulders, then his tongue and lips. Loki ran his hands over Tom’s back, hips, and arse, pulling him closer. Tom bit down on the junction between neck and shoulder, just to feel Loki shudder under him. 

“Fuck! I…” 

Tom cut the words off with a kiss and Loki moaned instead. All that mattered was that they were together again. Tom devoted himself to causing more moans, more shudders, more gasps. He was so turned on that just his cock brushing against Loki’s stomach was almost enough to tip him over the edge. But he wanted Loki to beg him for release. Tom knew a thousand tricks, every place to touch, or lick or suck. Loki had taught him many of those tricks, others he’d learned on his own or from some of the other boys at school. No matter where they came from, Tom knew what he was doing and proved it with every caress. 

Loki twisted and tipped backwards onto the sofa, taking Tom with him. Tom lay sprawled atop him, like their first time two and a half years ago. Only this time they were nude and Loki accepted him with open arms. Tom shook under his lover’s hands, and Loki tranced long fingers along Tom’s spine, down and and down until he reached Tom’s arse. 

Tom pulled away from their kiss and let out a small cry. “Fuck, Loki… please…” 

“Was that a request?” 

Tom’s eyes rolled back in his head as Loki’s finger dipped between his cheeks. “Takes too long - ah!” He thrust against Loki’s abdomen. “Later…” 

Loki chuckled in his ear. “Impatient.” 

Tom whined and shifted until they were on their sides, facing one another. He wrapped a hand around Loki’s cock. “Yes, impatient.” He kissed the older man, and tangled the other hand in Loki's long black hair. “I’ve been dying to do this all day. Dreaming about it for months.” 

Loki’s head fell back, a long moan slipping between his lips. “I - ah! - suppose I shouldn’t complain.” 

“That I want to watch you come? You probably shouldn’t complain, no.” 

Loki chuckled and pulled Tom into another kiss. Tongue tracing his lips, slipping into his mouth to tangle with his own. Tom wished he had lube closer than his suitcase by the door, or Loki’s bedroom, but even the slightly awkward grip on Loki’s cock seemed to be effective. Loki moaned in time with his hand, then thrust with it. His kisses grew more urgent, deeper and hotter. He shuddered under Tom’s ministrations, one hand buried in Tom’s curls, the other squeezing his arse. 

“Are you close, beautiful boy?” 

Tom shivered. God, he loved Loki’s bedroom voice. He loved the nickname too, even though he probably shouldn’t. “I’ve been close all morning.” Tom thrust against Loki’s stomach, lubed by sweat and precum. “All you had to do was look at me.” 

Loki tipped his head back so that he could make eye contact. His eyes were mostly black, a pale, green-blue-gray ring around the pupil. “Show me.” 

Tom moaned and shifted just enough that he could wrap his hand around both their cocks. Loki’s hot skin lit a fire inside of him. He rutted against Loki’s cock and his own hand, so close. Loki’s eyes never left his face, even as his beautiful features melted into bliss. Loki’s mouth dropped open, a breathy groan of ecstasy escaping. Tom knew that look so well. It was written into his mind by dozens of encounters and thousands of fantasies. Nothing was sexier. The extra slick between them made his own orgasm effortless. He tried to muffle his scream against Loki’s neck, but the hand in his hair was like iron. The light tug of pain melted his spine while the smile on Loki’s lips melted his brain. 

They shuddered in one another’s arms. Loki’s shiver set off tremors in Tom, which in turn made Loki pull him closer. Slowly, they drifted down into a pile of relaxation. 

“Knowing you were in Paris, but that I couldn’t see you, drove me mad, you know,” Loki muttered in his ear. “I wanted to come to your hotel and fuck you while your mates were all right there. So they’d know I was your lover. That you are mine.” 

Tom moaned and pulled even closer. “I wish you had.” 

Loki chuckled and brushed his fingers through Tom’s curls. “Did you fuck any of them?” 

“Just one, and I didn’t actually fuck him.” 

“No? What did you do?” 

There was no judgement or jealousy in Loki’s question, despite his possessiveness. Tom was fairly certain that it turned Loki on to hear about his other lovers. It certainly didn’t bother him. “I let him go down on me,” Tom replied quietly, snuggling in further. “After that, it barely took anything to make him come. Less than a minute with just one hand.” 

“Not much of a challenge then?” 

“No. But challenge wasn't the point." 

“What was the point, then?” 

“I was a bit drunk. And bored. And horny.” Tom paused, just for the drama. “And he has a nice smile.” 

Loki tipped his head back against the sofa and laughed. “Ah youth.” 

“Hey!” 

“Apologies.” 

Tom sat up and looked down at Loki. He wasn’t upset, how could he be? “I’m sure you’ve _never_ slept with anyone because of alcohol and horniness.” 

Loki’s grin made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Of course not.” 

“Exactly.” Tom leaned down and gave Loki a gentle kiss. “There’s no need to shame my youth. I’d be happy to pour all of that energy on you, given the opportunity. No alcohol required.” 

The grin turned into a tender, soft smile. “I’d like nothing better.” 

They kissed for a long, sweet moment. Tom could finally focus on something other than his lover’s nearness and devastating sexiness. Loki still intoxicated his senses, called to him in some primal way, but at least he no longer lived in a swimming pool full of hormones screaming at him to fuck Loki into the sofa. It was worse when he was younger, when every sexual urge he had was focused on this man. That blaze had banked down into a comfortable fire over the years. Suitable for warming the room, not burning it down. Gentle kisses would do for now. 

Loki pulled away from the kiss. “We should clean up. I’m certain that we’ll just get messy again soon enough, but I’d like to be able to get up without dripping.” 

Tom chuckled and sat up again. “I suppose that’s reasonable.” He got to his feet and snatched up his discarded tee-shirt to wipe himself off, then tossed it to Loki who did the same. “As long as we can continue later.” 

Loki stood and stretched. “I believe you requested fucking at a future date, and I am always happy to oblige.” 

Tom grinned. His cock was doing it’s level best to rally at the thought, but he wasn’t fifteen anymore. “Give me an hour and I’m all yours.” 

“Mmmm.” Pale eyes swept over Tom. “Perhaps some additional food and rest will be required, but I look forward to it. 

Despite the promise of an hour, they spent the time until supper curled up together talking. Tom worried that some day they’d run out of things to talk about, but so far they’d never run dry. It was rare that he ever thought of Loki as being “old” even though there were some distinct generational differences between them. Loki had seen the internet go from a niche thing that some predicted was “just a fad,” to taking over the world. He vividly recalled when gay marriage was legalized in the UK, while Tom remembered it only in passing, since he hadn’t quite figured out his own sexuality at the time. 

Still, art and literature were largely the same. The words of Shakespeare certainly hadn’t changed for hundreds of years, even if some of the theories surrounding the Bard had. Even older drama could hold both their interests. Tom excitedly told Loki about a paper he’d run across which discussed a recent translation of Sophocles, which put a new spin on the ancient playwright’s words. 

They shared a bottle of Burgundy with supper. The rich, fruity wine was so much better than the cheap table wine that he and his mates had drunk during their holiday. Loki had excellent taste in all things, and wine was no exception. 

Tom dragged Loki into the bedroom before he could do more than put the dishes in the tiny kitchen. 

“I believe someone is impatient again.” 

Tom chuckled and ran his tongue and teeth over Loki’s neck. “It’s been _hours_ Loki, I’ve been very patient.” 

Loki pulled him into a kiss. “I suppose you have been a good lad. What would you like as your reward?” 

Tom moaned and ran his hands down Loki’s back. “Fuck me, please. It’s been so long… Please?” 

Loki shuddered and pulled Tom even closer. “Of course. Anything for you, my sweet boy.” 

Tom was fairly certain that Loki got some sort of visceral pleasure from him begging. It was one of a handful of kinks that Tom played to every chance he got. He loved the look in Loki’s eyes, a flash of lust that kindled the fires. 

Tom slipped his hands up under Loki’s shirt and pulled the fabric over his head. He took a moment to lick across Loki’s collarbone, dipping his tongue in the hollow of the older man’s clavicle before moving up to his neck. Loki gasped at Tom’s mouth on his skin and moved to take Tom’s shirt off. 

“No, let me.” Tom stepped away and pulled the cotton up over his head, slowly enough to make it alluring, rather than just yanking it off as he otherwise might. He was rewarded by glowing, lust-filled eyes traveling over his naked torso. Tom came close again for a kiss. While Loki was distracted with his mouth, Tom gave him a gentle push so that he fell back onto the bed. 

Loki let out a small “oof” and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. 

Tom grinned. “Trust me.” 

Loki nodded, grinned, and put his hands behind his head, a picture of pure nonchalance. “The show is yours." 

Tom slowly unzipped his jeans and shimmied out of them to reveal tented black pants beneath. “Like the view so far?” 

Loki’s eyes seemed to be riveted to Tom’s crotch. “I do.” 

Tom pulled the waistline of the boxer briefs down to expose one hip and a section of well-toned abs. “And now?” 

“Mmmm.” Loki’s eyes flicked up to meet Tom’s. “It could be better.” 

Tom laughed and pulled the pants off in a smooth motion, managing to avoid tripping himself or having the waistband catch on his cock. “Now who’s impatient?” 

“I am. Don’t rub it in.” Loki beckoned him over. “Come here.” 

Tom dropped down onto the foot of the bed and crawled up it until he reached his lover’s waist. There he paused and leaned down to rub his cheek over Loki’s erection, obvious even through his trousers. 

Loki’s head fell back and he moaned. “Fuck.” 

“That was the idea.” Tom undid the button and zip of Loki’s jeans with his teeth, a trick his uncle had shown him years ago. Loki’s cock sprang free with only the slightest effort, since - unlike Tom - he’d forgone pants. Tom licked a stripe along the bottom of his cock. Loki arched his back and let out a breathy groan. 

“Better?” 

“God, yes.” 

Tom tugged the black jeans down, Loki assisting by raising his hips. Tom turned his attention back to the hard cock in front of his nose, giving it another long lick before sucking him down. Loki’s hips twitched and he moaned. A gentle hand brushed through Tom’s curls, exactly how he liked it. Not trying to constrict his movement, or guide it, just an acknowledgement and sign of affection. 

“God, you get better at this every time.” Loki’s voice was blurred with pleasure. “By the time you’re my age, you’ll… ahhh!” 

Tom pulled away from the hard suck which made Loki lift right off the bed. “No talking about being older than me, or age differences. Okay?” 

“Sorry.” Loki smiled down at him. “May I still call you ‘beautiful boy’?” 

Tom returned the smile, tension melting away. “Yes, of course.” 

“Good. And since you won’t have your skills at sucking cock praised, will you come up here so I can finger you open? I do recall there being talk of fucking.” 

Tom shuddered and crawled up the rest of the way. Loki pulled him into a kiss and tumbled them over so he lay on top of Tom. “I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks,” Loki muttered against his lips. Tom could tell he was moving around - likely getting the lube - but he was overwhelmed by Loki’s lips on his skin, the weight of his body pressed into Tom’s. “Ever since you told me that you were coming to Paris, I’ve fantasized about fucking you again.” 

Tom thrust up against Loki’s stomach and moaned. “Me too. Every day. Please, God, please.” Tom spread his legs for Loki’s questing hand. His fingers were cool and wet, slick with lube and trembling oh so slightly. Loki was trying to drive him mad, Tom was certain of it. The slow circles massaged the muscles of his hole, but didn’t penetrate. “Please!” 

Loki chuckled. “So eager.” 

“Always. Always for you. Please?” 

Tom keened as quietly as he could as the tip of a long finger breached him. He breathed out slowly, allowing his muscles to relax. The intrusion felt like heaven. One finger, in and out, slowly enough to make it feel like forever. 

“My sweet boy, always so receptive. You want this so badly, don’t you?” 

Tom nodded and tried to impale himself on Loki’s fingers. “More?” 

Loki’s chuckle was breathy this time. Tom felt Loki’s iron-hard cock rocked against his hip. Tom did love this. He always had, but the power it seemed to have over Loki was intoxicating well above a bottle of wine. 

“Have you done this since the last time I fucked you?” Loki asked as he slipped a second finger inside Tom’s arse. 

“Nnn no.” 

“No? You haven’t even played with the toys I gave you?” 

Tom moaned and shook his head. “No privacy. Ahh!” 

“There we are.” Loki brushed a finger over Tom’s prostate again, making him cry out. “Have you let someone else fuck you yet?” 

Again, Tom shook his head. “Won’t.” 

Loki gasped and thrust against his hip a little harder. “No? Never?” 

“Just you.” Tom opened his eyes to meet Loki’s gaze. There was something complex in the older man’s eyes. Something Tom couldn’t quite read in his current state. Rather than try and delve through the confusion, he pulled Loki into a passionate kiss. He hoped the kiss would explain what he couldn’t put into words. That this was _theirs_ not for just anyone Tom fancied. That this meant something above and beyond what their relationship might mean to anyone looking from the outside. That this was love and devotion, not just a release of tension, let alone some perverted, unnatural thing between blood-kin. 

While they kissed, Loki scissored his fingers, stretching Tom open even further. Tom couldn’t be sure that his message came through. He wasn’t an empath, after all. But it seemed like Loki’s kisses held more affection, that his fingers held adoration, not just lust. 

“How do you want this, sweet boy? How do you want me to fuck you?” 

Tom arched his back as a third finger made its way inside of him. “I want to see you.” 

“Mmmm, yes, I like that idea.” Loki curled his fingers again and Tom’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Do you want to ride me? You always seem to like that.” 

Tom’s mind flung itself back two and a half years, to the moments Loki first fucked him. It had been a revelation to Tom. Melting his insides in a way that he’d never imagined. He’d sacrificed his virginity on Loki’s altar, and had never regretted it. The look in the older man’s eyes, the way he’d looked at Tom like he was the sexiest thing in the universe… 

“Yes, yes please.” 

Loki grinned. “Your wish is my command.” He rolled them over again so that Loki lay on his back, looking up at Tom above him. 

Tom shifted so he straddled Loki’s hips, the older man’s cock trapped between them. “Any requests?” 

“I want to see you enjoy yourself, my sweet boy.” Loki reached up and threaded his fingers through Tom’s curls to bring him down into a kiss. “Use me for your pleasure, as though this were just one of your fantasies.” 

Tom moaned. “You’re always quite vocal in my fantasies, you know. I want to hear you too.” 

Another quick kiss. “Whatever you’d like.” 

Tom grinned and sat back up. He snagged the lube from where Loki had abandoned it on the bed. He warmed it up in his hands before slicking Loki’s cock with it. “What have you been fantasizing about, then? It’s only polite to share.” 

Loki moaned as Tom stroked him. “You, my lo… my beautiful boy. Fucking you again after all this time.” 

Tom’s heart quickened at the bitten off word. Love? He couldn’t be sure, but that’s what it sounded like. If Loki had meant “lovely boy” - one of Tom’s favorite nicknames - he wouldn’t have censored himself. Tom knew that Loki had complex feelings on the nature of their love. When they’d first gotten together, Loki admitted that he’d loved Tom since he was a small child, but of course that was different. The love of a family member, not of a lover. That they were both lovers and kin made for some strange, complicated feelings. But that was one of the things they didn’t talk about. Loki veered away from those complexities in the heat of passion, but perhaps that was changing. 

“Good, let’s make both our fantasies come true then.” Tom shifted around until he could impale himself on Loki’s generously-lubed cock. Loki groaned as Tom sank down. 

“You feel like heaven, beautiful boy.” Loki stroked his hips. “Like Valhalla itself.” 

Tom hitched himself up and sank down again. He let out a small noise like a whimpering gasp. He hadn’t been lying, he hadn’t done anything like this for a while. Coming back to it was wonderful, if a bit more of a stretch. “Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re perfect.” 

“Sweet… ah!” Loki gasped as Tom raised himself up and slammed back down. “God.” 

Tom found a rhythm he liked. One that hit his prostate every third thrust or so. That deep spark was so different from any other pleasure. For a moment, he lost himself in it. Just the sweetness of that bliss he hadn't felt for months. He looked down to see Loki looking back at him with black, lust-filled eyes. The expression on the older man’s face would be written into Tom’s mind for eternity. Wonder and passion and gratification. Like Tom was fulfilling _Loki's_ fantasies, not his own. Tom leaned down and kissed him. Stayed close to hear Loki’s panting breaths and small murmurs of pleasure. 

“God, how can you… you know… all… so… God…” 

Tom sat up again, missing the way that Loki’s cock brushed his insides from this angle. The effect was instant. Tom threw his head back and moaned. Loki started thrusting up into him, matching his movements. 

“Yes, like that.” Tom bit his lip. “Fuck…” 

Loki stroked his hips, coming closer and closer to Tom’s cock, but not touching him. Tom moaned and tightened around Loki’s cock. 

“Are,” Loki gasped, “are you getting close?” 

The tension in Loki’s voice was familiar. “Yes, touch me?” 

Loki moaned and started thrusting faster. “God.” 

A long, lube-slicked hand wrapped around Tom’s cock. He nearly screamed, just at that. Loki’s hand on his cock, not his own. Loki’s cock up his arse, not a toy. He rode Loki as fast as he could, each thrust sparking behind his eyes. Tom felt his orgasm building like a hurricane, so close, so, so close... 

He heard Loki’s voice spiral up into his perfect, gasping moans as his hips stuttered against Tom’s arse. One more thrust, one more stroke, and Tom screamed, coming over Loki’s stomach and chest. Tom’s back arched for a moment before he fell forward, catching himself on his hands on either side of Loki’s head. 

They looked at one another for a long moment, both breathing hard. Tom leaned in and gave Loki a gentle kiss. Loki threaded a hand through Tom’s curls, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless. 

Tom shifted so that Loki’s cock slipped free. Loki moaned and his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Sleepy?” 

Loki nodded. “‘M afraid so.” 

Tom chuckled and got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” He padded into the small bathroom only to return a few moments later, after a hasty cleanup, bearing a warm wet washcloth. Loki seemed to be mostly asleep, so Tom cleaned him up as gently as he could. Yawning himself, Tom pulled the joggers he wore to sleep out of his suitcase, put them on, and curled up beside Loki. The older man hummed contentedly and wrapped an arm around Tom’s shoulders. 

With that, they drifted off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painting that Tom is so fascinated by is - much like this chapter - titled [ “Le garçon au chat”](%E2%80%9Dwww.musee-orsay.fr/en/collections/works-in-focus/painting/commentaire_id/the-boy-with-the-cat-3006.html?S=1&tx_commentaire_pi1%5BpidLi%5D=509&tx_commentaire_pi1%5Bfrom%5D=841&cHash=1ac42fde7d%E2%80%9D) or, “The Boy with (a/the) Cat” by Pierre Auguste Renoir. It is currently housed at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, not in a small, obscure gallery. I actually think “the boy” looks a bit like Andrew Scott of Sherlock fame, rather than Loki, but it was too good a parallel to ignore. 
> 
> Translation notes: Apologies to any French speakers. I know just about enough French to get me into trouble.  
> ‘Petit frère’ is little brother, while ‘petit ami’ means boyfriend. ‘Neveu’ means nephew.


	2. A Strange Interruption

Tom woke to someone pounding on the door. It sounded like an entire army was trying to get into the flat. For a split second, he thought that his father had realized that he and Loki were sleeping together and had come to drag him home to England, beating Loki half to death in the process. 

“Loki! Loki, open this door!” 

The voice was unfamiliar, American-accented, and male. Tom looked around to see where his lover might be. The space beside him on the bed was empty, and he could hear water running nearby. 

“Damn.” Tom dragged himself out of bed and pulled on the joggers he usually slept in, which had been discarded part way through the night. He stumbled out of the bedroom into the sitting room. 

“Loki, I know you’re in there.” 

Tom grumbled to himself and unlocked the door. It occurred to him a moment later that perhaps he should have checked who was outside the flat, but it was too late for that now. 

The man in the hallway was tall and thin, though a couple of inches shorter and slightly bulkier than himself and Loki. He had silver-streaked dark hair, a beard, and sharp blue-gray eyes. Tom judged him to be a bit older than his uncle, probably in his forties. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Tom couldn’t say why. 

The man did a dramatic double take when he saw Tom. The first glance would show him curly blond hair and tanned skin, while a second, closer look would show his cheekbones, the shape of his eyes, mouth, and nose. The features Tom so eerily held in common with Loki. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

Tom glared. “Tom Friggason, who the hell are you?” 

The older man’s scowl deepend, most likely at the unusual surname he shared with Loki, or how similar his voice was. “Dr. Stephen Strange. Where the hell is Loki?” 

Tom’s vision swamped with crimson for a split second as the name registered. Without thinking, he drew back a fist and punched the other man in the jaw. The American stumbled back a step and brought a shaking, gloved hand to his face. 

“What the fuck was that for? Do you even know who I am?” 

Tom straightened further, accentuating the height difference between them. “I know exactly who you are, that’s why I punched you,” Tom growled. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave now before I do it again.” 

“Now listen here, kid, I don’t know why you’re in Loki’s apartment, but I have every right to see him.” 

Tom crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make,” the other man retorted. 

Tom narrowed his eyes and looked the American over again. A few things struck him now that he was more awake and less… rage-fueled. Yes, this was Loki’s ex-boyfriend, there was no mistaking the doctor’s unusual name. But his clothing was more worn than Tom would have expected from a successful surgeon, and the canvas rucksack he carried was battered and torn. And… and… gloves. Gloves? In summer? It wasn’t exactly hot out, but it certainly wasn’t cold enough to warrant gloves. And Dr. Strange’s hands were still shaking. Possibly from adrenaline - he had just been punched in the face - but perhaps not. 

Before Tom could come to any conclusions, a familiar voice came from behind him. 

“Tom? Who was at the door?” 

Loki walked in clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. Another towel partially covered his face as he dried his long black hair. 

Tom opened his mouth to reply, but their visitor spoke first. 

“Hey Loki.” 

Loki dropped the towel he’d been using on his hair. “Stephen?” 

“Yeah, sorry. I…” Strange looked at Tom, then back at Loki. “I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Loki looked stunned. “What? Why?” 

The stranger gave Tom a glare clearly intended to say  _ ‘get the fuck out of this conversation’ _ but Tom chose to ignore it. “I… there was an accident. I… I’ve lost everything.” 

“Stephen, you’re not making any sense. What happened?” 

The concern in Loki’s tone made Tom want to bite. He told himself that he wasn’t jealous of the older man. Loki had broken up with Strange before Tom had even fallen in love with him, and Tom and Loki had never been monogamous anyway. But Tom was outraged that this man, who had hurt his beloved so badly, still held a slice of his lover’s heart. 

“I…” Strange held up shaking hands. “I can’t…” He swallowed hard and tugged a worn leather off to reveal scarred, trembling fingers. “They don’t work anymore.” 

Tom’s blood washed with ice and he swallowed hard. Dr. Strange was a surgeon. A  _ neurosurgeon. _ You needed the steadiest of hands to operate on someone’s heart, let alone their brain or spine. Tom might despise this man for all the damage he’d done to Loki, but he was empathetic enough that he couldn’t help but feel incredibly sorry for him. Tom looked at Loki, silently asking for guidance. 

Loki met his gaze, took in Tom’s half-clothed state - and hopefully his anger - and bit his lip. “Tom, why don’t you get dressed. I’ll make coffee.” Tom nodded and Loki’s pale eyes turned to Strange. “You might as well come in.” 

Tom stalked into the bedroom while the invader came into the flat. He sat down on the bed and glared at the floor. Dammit, this man had no right to interrupt their happiness. Tom’s time with Loki was precious. Every second they spent together was stolen and furtive and wonderful. This was supposed to be  _ their _ holiday, and the bastard American had to barge in with his sob story and steal Loki’s attention away. 

Tom conceded to himself that he might be a bit jealous after all. 

He could hear voices from the other room, but they were too muffled to understand. Tom decided that he would give them some extra time and take a shower. Hopefully Loki would kick his ex out and they could go back to their holiday. Tom stripped off his trousers and stomped into the bath. He hadn’t showered since the previous day, so he probably smelled like sex. Parts of him were still a bit sticky, despite cursory cleanups. 

Loki’s shower was adequate, though nothing like the bath Tom enjoyed at home. When Tom hit his last major growth spurt, he realized that most showers were not high enough for someone over six feet tall. His father was taller still, so all of the bathrooms at home had been constructed with that in mind. 

As Tom shampooed his hair, he pondered what Loki might do about his ex-boyfriend coming back into his life. Everything Tom had heard about the man made him angry. Loki admitted that Dr. Strange was brilliant, but so unempathetic that he might be a sociopath. People were puzzles to be solved, not beings with emotions and needs. Tom had gotten the impression that everything had been handed to the doctor on a silver platter, that he’d never had to really  _ work _ for anything. If that privilege had been taken away, he might be a very different person. 

Then again, perhaps not. If he truly was a sociopath, very little could change that. Someone who lacked empathy could be taught to treat others well, but they would never really understand deep down. 

But what right did Tom have to tell Loki what to do with his life? Tom was going back to the UK soon enough. But even if he stayed with Loki all summer, he started university in autumn, and Cambridge was a world away from Paris. And it had been driven into him time and time again that his relationship with Loki could never be public. It didn’t matter that Tom was legally an adult in most of the world, his lover was still a close blood relative, and twice his age. If they hadn’t looked so much alike, they probably could get away with claiming that they weren’t kin. But as it was, nobody could look at the two of them and not think they were brothers. Or worse, father and son. 

Tom bit back a sob. He was in love with someone who loved him back, but they were still denied the rights that virtually everyone in the civilized world received. They might have been living in the time of Oscar Wilde, persecuted for loving another man, rather than in the 21st century where marriage was a right, not a privilege. 

The water ran cold. Tom shuddered in the icy spray, but didn’t move. He couldn’t go out and deal with what might be facing him. Loki still cared for his ex, that was obvious. Yes, the doctor had been verbally and emotionally abusive, but plenty of people stayed in worse relationships. If Loki had a steady boyfriend again, he would stop spending time with Tom. It was too dangerous. 

A soft tap came at the door. “Tom? Are you alright?” 

Tom shut the water off and shivered. “Yes.” 

Loki opened the door and peered in. He was dressed now, though his hair was damp. “You don’t look alright.” 

Tom looked down at the tile below his feet. “Is he still here?” 

“Yes.” 

Tom still didn’t move. “Okay.” 

Loki walked into the small bath and closed the door behind him. “He needs help. I can’t just turn him away.” 

Tom snatched up his towel from where it sat on the counter and began to dry himself off far more briskly than needed. “I know.” 

“Tom…” Loki trailed off and Tom forced himself to meet his uncle’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” Tom shook his head. “I… I’ll… I suppose I should probably head home.” 

Loki made a small, wounded noise and pulled Tom into a hug. “No, not on his account. No.” He kissed Tom’s cheek. “I won’t have our time together stolen.” 

Tom pulled back just enough to meet Loki’s gaze. “What did you tell him? About me?” 

Loki looked away. “The truth.” 

“You mean  _ part _ of the truth.” 

Loki snorted. “Yes, part of the truth. I don’t trust him - or anyone - with the whole truth.” 

“You told me that he was brilliant, won’t he figure it out if I’m still here?” 

Loki paused, considering. “He’s clever, yes, but thick as mince about people.” 

Tom sighed. “Is he staying here?” 

“I offered my sofa for the night.” 

“And where am I supposed to sleep?” Tom asked with a raised eyebrow. “You only have the one bed.” 

Loki grimaced. “I know. You can still sleep with me.” 

Tom leaned back against the counter and glared at the ceiling. “Loki, this isn’t tenable. Your flat isn’t large enough for three men, and it certainly isn’t big enough to hide who you’re fucking.” 

He saw Loki wince out of the corner of his eye. “You’re right, of course you are, but I…” Loki sighed and leaned his forehead against Tom’s shoulder. “I can’t toss him out. He really has lost everything, and I… I owe him.” 

Tom jerked away. “You don’t owe him anything! He was abusive and cruel to you. People like that don’t deserve the time of day, let alone compassion from those they hurt.” 

Loki stared at him, mouth open. “He was my partner for four years, Tom. Yes, the last year of that was hardly a picnic, but it was still the longest relationship I’ve ever had. I do owe him.” 

Tom flinched. He and Loki had been together for about two and a half years - which was by far Tom’s longest relationship - but they’d only  _ seen _ one another a dozen or so times during those years. “Okay. Fine.” He ran a hand over his face. “I won’t go yet.” 

“Thank you.” Loki cupped Tom’s jaw and drew him into a kiss. “I won’t let him spoil this, alright?” 

“Okay.” Tom returned the kiss. “I hate that we have to hide, but you’re worth it.” 

Loki smiled and kissed him again. Tom would be perfectly happy to keep kissing for the next forever, or have the shower sex he’d been fantacising about for months, but a middle-aged American doctor was just two doors away. Tom pulled away before he got too turned on. “I should get dressed.” 

“Yes.” After one last lingering kiss, Loki stepped towards the door. “I’ll leave you to that, as much as I’d rather stay.” 

“For the sake of fooling your guest, that’s probably wise.” 

Loki chuckled and slipped out. Tom heard the connecting door to the sitting room close. Loki’s flat had just the one bedroom and bath, but rather than being a proper ensuite, the doors to bedroom and bath were opposite one another, with a third door into the sitting room that could be closed for further privacy, or left open to allow better access to the bath. Given that this arrangement was the only way that a visitor could get to the loo without walking through the bedroom, it was very practical. 

Tom pulled clean clothes out of his suitcase and dressed as quickly as he could. He felt especially naked with Dr. Strange in the flat, and wanted to dispel that as quickly as he could. He considered wearing something provocative, but decided that jeans and a tee-shirt would be fine. He didn’t bother with socks - or pants - since he  _ belonged _ here with Loki while Strange did not. He glanced in the mirror, winced at the uncontrollable chaos that was his hair, and walked out of the bedroom. 

Dr. Strange sat in the large, comfy chair by the window, while Loki sat close by on the sofa. Both men cradled coffee cups in their hands. Tom smiled at Loki, ignored Strange, and went into the tiny kitchen for his own coffee. 

“The car spun out,” Strange was saying. “And went over the side of the cliff. I should have died, but instead my hands were shredded.” 

Tom winced. 

“How fast was the car going?” Loki asked. 

“About seventy,” came the reply. “Miles per hour, not kilometers.” 

Tom attempted to convert miles into kilometers as he sat beside Loki on the sofa. Maths wasn’t his strongest suit, but he had a rough guess. Tom winced. That was well over 100 kmph. 

Loki flashed him a quick smile, and turned his attention back to Strange. “Do you have any idea how you survived?” 

The older man shrugged. “The paramedics got to me within ten minutes.” He hung his head. “I almost wished they hadn’t.” 

Tom shuddered and took another sip of coffee. He had no idea what Strange was going through. He’d never been badly hurt, or really interacted with anyone who had been. His grandfather had died when he was very small, so he barely remembered it. His mother’s parents were still alive, as was his father’s mother. Tom realized that he’d never really dealt with death or serious injury in a meaningful way. Despite that, this tale sounded familiar. Like he’d read a book with a similar plot at some point, or seen it on telly. 

“I assume that the damage to your hands is bad enough that you can’t work?” Loki asked quietly. 

Strange shook his head.  _ “I _ might be able to fix them, but I haven’t found anyone else who can. I’ve tried everything. Experimental research, biotics, nerve grafts. Nothing worked.” 

Loki nodded. “What about Christine?” 

The American visibly winced. “She left before this even happened.” 

“Ah.” Loki looked down at his hands, and Tom caught a smile on his lips. “Sorry.” 

“I’m sure you don’t have a lot of sympathy for the woman I left you for,” Strange said bitterly, “but she’s probably better off.” 

Tom bit back a retort and drank more coffee instead. Although Loki had explained that his ex was bisexual a long time ago, Tom hadn’t realized that he’d left Loki for a woman. He wasn’t sure if that was worse or better than another man. Most of Tom’s own boyfriends had been primarily interested in girls, but happy to have a talented school boyfriend who didn’t mind a lack of commitment. From Tom’s perspective, they were friends who shared orgasams. Loki was his love, and that was all there was to it. 

Loki interrupted Tom’s train of thought with his response to Dr. Strange. “On the contrary, I have every sympathy for Christine. I know what it’s like to live with you, after all.” 

Strange flinched as though he’d been slapped. “I deserved that.” 

“Stephen…” Loki sighed. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” 

“No, you’re right.” Strange got to his feet. “I should never have come here. You’re better off without me in your life. Everyone is.” The older man rubbed a hand over his face and took a step towards the door. 

Loki stood, blocking the path to the door. “No, I promised you a safe place, at least for the night, and you’ll have it.” 

Strange shook his head and rubbed his eyes with shaking fingers. “I can’t impose on you, Loki. I didn’t realize that you had a guest when I came here. I can’t displace your nephew. I should just go.” 

Tom squirmed in his seat. He would very much like it if Dr. Strange left, but the desire was a selfish one. “I don’t mind,” he said quietly. 

Strange’s steely eyes snapped to Tom. “You sure?” 

Tom shrugged and sipped his coffee. 

Loki looked back and forth between Tom and Strange, eyebrow raised. “I think we could all use some breakfast. I’ll go down to the boulangerie around the corner and bring us something back.” He put a gentle hand on Strange’s shoulder and pushed him back down into his chair. “Stay put.” He turned to Tom. “Don’t kill each other, alright?” 

Tom gave him a crooked smile. “No promises.” 

Loki chuckled and patted Tom’s arm as he walked past. 

Loki left the flat a minute later, leaving Tom and Strange to stare at one another. 

Strange cleared his throat. “Loki said you just graduated from Eton?” 

Tom nodded. 

“Where are you going to college?” 

“Cambridge,” Tom replied quietly. “I start in a couple of months.” He didn’t want to make small talk with this man, but he didn’t have much of a choice. 

“Following in your uncle’s footsteps?” 

Tom shrugged. “I suppose.” 

“What are you studying?” 

Tom suppressed the grimace that always came with that question. “Classics.” 

“Like, Greek philosophy? That stuff?” 

“More or less.” 

“Huh.” 

“Yes, I know. Everyone thinks it’s odd.” 

A deafening silence fell. Tom drank his coffee while Strange looked at him steadily. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Tom asked, tired of the steely eyes on him. 

Strange let out a startled laugh. “Loki always used to say that.” 

Tom blushed as he realized that Loki had indeed said that to  _ him, _ and that’s where he picked it up _. _ “He and I have a lot in common.” 

“I can see that.” 

“So?” 

Strange shrugged. “Normally I would ask how you knew Loki, but I guess that’s a stupid question in this case.” 

“Given that his older brother is my father, it is a bit, yes.” 

“Huh.” 

Tom raised a questioning eyebrow. 

Strange leaned forward and shook his head. “That is incredibly disconcerting.” 

“What?” 

“It’s not that you just look like him, you  _ act _ like him.” 

Tom rolled his eyes. “You say that as though it’s a bad thing.” 

“I didn’t mean that, it’s just…” Again those gray eyes swept over him. This time they felt appraising -  _ approving _ \- rather than judgemental. “It’s like seeing Loki fifteen years ago.” 

Tom’s other eyebrow joined the first. That comment, along with the lingering, hungry look, seemed too much like a come-on for his comfort. “Closer to twenty,” Tom replied. As much as he disliked the age gap between himself and his lover, most people would think twice about chatting up someone more than twenty years their junior. 

Strange waved a hand. “I didn’t know him then. It’s weird though. If I just saw the two of you together out of context, I’d assume he was your father.” 

Tom scowled down at his coffee. He hated that people made that mistake, but… “I thought that too, actually. At least for a while,” Tom admitted. “When I was fifteen, I got the idea in my head that he might be my dad. It messed me up a bit.” 

“I can imagine.” 

Tom shook his head. Although it would have been traumatic to discover that his father wasn’t really his father, his real concern at the time was that he was  _ in love _ with a man who he thought might be his father. For whatever reason, that seemed like it was crossing a line while it being his uncle did not. “Obviously it’s not the case, but I barely saw Loki until I was a teenager, so I didn’t really know.” 

“He mentioned that he had a niece and nephew, but it wasn’t really practical for me to interact with your family while we were together.” Strange rubbed his jaw where Tom had punched him. “I’m guessing he spent some time bitching about me.” 

“He did a bit, yes.” 

“Sorry you had to hear about that.” 

Tom scowled at the floor. He wanted to say something scathing. “Given that I’m fairly certain he spent more time with us because of the breakup, I can’t say I’m upset.” 

Strange shrugged. “He’s a free spirit. He never wanted to spend much time in one place.” 

Tom was pretty sure that wasn't the reason Loki and Strange had broken up, but he nodded. If Strange wanted to believe that Loki's wandering feet were the reason they weren't together anymore, Tom wouldn't argue. Who knows, maybe it had played a factor. 

Loki told him a long time ago that he could see himself settling down with the right man. It was at least a little comforting that Strange was not that ‘right man’. 

“He’s been in Paris for six months, which may be the new record,” Tom replied. 

“Do you know if he has a boyfriend here?” Strange asked. 

Tom blushed. How on Earth could he answer that? “You’d have to ask him.” 

“I did.” Strange gave him a crooked smile. “He just smiled enigmatically and left the room.” 

Tom snickered. “That sounds about right.” 

“Yup.” 

Silence fell again. Tom wanted to shout at Strange. Tell him to get out and leave them the fuck alone, but Loki wouldn’t like it. He got to his feet. “Would you care for more coffee?” 

“Sure.” Strange handed the cup over and Tom headed into the kitchen. There wasn’t much coffee left in the French press, so he put more water on to boil and gave the last of the current pot to Strange. Back in the kitchen, he emptied out the leavings and ground a new batch of coffee. He turned back to the sitting room and nearly leapt out of his own skin. Strange stood right behind him. 

The American swigged his coffee. “How long have you been here?” 

“Since yesterday,” Tom replied. “Why?” 

“You’re very comfortable in Loki’s kitchen.” He indicated the coffee grinder with his mug. “It took me forever to remember where he keeps the coffee.” 

Tom put the coffee canister back on the top of the tallest shelf. “He and my dad always hid the coffee from Nana since she didn’t approve of them drinking it. She thought it would stunt their growth.” Tom snorted and shook his head. “Given that they’re both well over six feet, that seems like a silly concern.” He glanced up at the tall shelf again. “The only reason Dad doesn’t keep the coffee up high at home is that Mum is short and she got tired of getting out the steps to reach it.” 

“Huh.” Strange shrugged and walked back into the sitting room. Tom frowned after his retreating back. Something seemed off here, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it might be. There was that odd feeling, like he recognized Strange, but there was something above and beyond that dejavu. 

Loki returned to the flat just as the second pot of coffee was ready to press. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the aroma of coffee. 

Loki set the bread down and swept into the kitchen. “Bless you, child, you are a saint among men.” Loki nudged Tom with his shoulder affectionately. Tom was sure it would have been a kiss if they hadn’t had company. “I forgot to ask you to make more coffee.” 

“You can trust me to know the essentials.” Tom stuck his nose into the paper bag Loki had abandoned. “Baguettes?” 

“With butter and jam,” Loki replied, setting the latter items on the table beside the bread. “The true Parisien petit déjeuner.” 

Strange looked at the bread. “What about croissants?” 

“Croissants are for tourists,” Loki replied dismissively. “I suppose you’d rather have a doughnut or something.” 

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with doughnuts.” 

Loki rolled his eyes Strange, winked at Tom, and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. Much to Tom's delight, Loki was using a mug Tom gave him for Christmas two years ago. It bore the image of a cartoony black cat reading a book titled “World Domination for Cats.” Tom had been proud of that gift, and was pleased to see it in use, especially today. 

Breakfast was surprisingly pleasant, despite the interloper. Loki kept the conversation going, including both Tom and Strange whenever the topic might stray into unknown territory. Tom had seen Loki’s conversational prowess before, but it never got old to see him effortlessly prevent a row with just a few well chosen words. 

By the time they’d finished eating, a plan was in place. Loki and Strange would explore options for finding someone who could actually help the doctor with his current problem while Tom spent the day out and about in Paris. Tom hated this plan, since it meant spending hardly any time with Loki, but it would allow them to keep their secret with less effort. If Tom was just a young man taking advantage of a free place to stay in Paris, he’d leap at the opportunity to go explore on his own. It was in keeping with his current persona, but he hated it. 

While Strange took a shower in Loki’s barely-adequate bath, Loki and Tom had a quick, quiet conversation in the sitting room.

“I hate this.” 

“I know. It’s just for the day. I promise.” 

Tom bit his lip and looked up at Loki from under his lashes. “You’re sure?” 

“Of course.” Loki kissed his forehead. “I have some ideas for how to get him some help, so there won’t be any need for him to stay any longer.” 

“He…” Tom trailed off, eyes drifting to the bathroom door. “I know we don’t usually talk about this kind of thing, but you’re not thinking of taking him back, are you?” 

Loki looked genuinely startled. “Of course not. It’s over and done with. It’s taken this long for us to just be  _ civil _ to one another. I have no interest in rekindling that lost romance.” 

“What if he wants to?” 

Loki frowned. “Did he say anything that made you think that?” 

Tom scuffed a toe across the worn wooden floor. “He asked if you have a boyfriend here.” 

“He asked me that as well.” 

“And he asked me when you wouldn’t tell him.” 

Loki chuckled. “He hates not getting answers.” 

Tom rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder, thumb brushing along the side of his neck. “I’ve never minded you having other people in your life, but… but not him, okay? I don’t like how he treated you. And I don’t like how he looks at me.” 

Loki scowled. “How he looks at you?” 

Tom nodded. “I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure he was checking me out. He made a comment about how I was just a younger version of you. It all seemed… covetous.” 

Loki’s frown deepened. “He’s nearly ten years older than  _ I _ am. I assume you rebuffed him?” 

“I pointed out the age difference, and didn’t encourage him at all.” Tom shrugged. “It wasn’t blatant enough to actually rebuff.” 

“Thank you for telling me.” Loki gave him a small, chaste kiss. “I’ll make sure he knows you aren’t interested.” 

“Thanks.” Tom leaned his forehead against Loki’s. “If nothing else, it gives me a good excuse to sleep in your room rather than in the chair in the sitting room.” 

Loki chuckled. “Clever boy. Yes, that’s an excellent idea.” 

They shared another soft kiss, only to spring apart when the water went silent in the next room. 

"I should get dressed properly and head out," Tom said, looking at the floor. 

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Are you not dressed properly now?" 

Tom grinned and leaned into Loki so he could whisper in his ear. "I was feeling hopeful when I got dressed, so I'm not wearing pants." 

Loki's eyes dropped, as though he could see through Tom's jeans, and bit his lip. "You will be the death of me someday." 

Tom snickered, kissed Loki's cheek, and scampered into the bedroom. 

Tom had already done almost everything he wanted to in Paris, but he managed to fill the day. The city felt very different when he was alone. If he'd been looking for a date, he would have found one. Several, if he was interested in girls. As it was, he chatted lightly with a handful of people, some French, some British, and even a couple of American tourists who needed a translator. 

Tom ate lunch on the green below the Eiffel Tower, avoided the massive queue at the Louvre, and found himself back at Loki's flat before supper. The older men weren't back yet, so Tom made a supper that would keep well for when they returned. He sat on Loki's sofa and read until he heard voices in the corridor. 

"Stephen, you can't expect miracles. No matter what you do, it will take time." 

"I  _ know _ that, but it's just one delay after another." 

Keys rattled in the lock and Loki walked in, Strange right behind him. Loki looked irritated, an angry line between his brows. He met Tom's gaze, and the frown melted into a soft smile. Tom returned the smile with a grin of his own.

"You're back," Loki said. "I wasn't sure when…" 

Tom got to his feet. "I made supper. Have a seat, both of you." 

Food seemed to alleviate some of the stress that clung to the older men, as did the bottle of crisp white wine Loki selected for their meal. 

Tom withdrew himself early, pleading a fatigue he didn't feel. Strange gave him a piercing look when he headed into Loki's bedroom, but Tom ignored it. He changed into the same joggers that he'd worn - briefly - the previous night and slipped into Loki's bed. The sheets smelled like sex and Loki and home. Tom moaned and buried his face in Loki's lavender-scented pillow. He considered having a wank, given that Loki would be a while. If they were even able to have sex at all, with a nosy American in the next room. Then again, Tom had long ago mastered the art of very quiet sex, and sternly told his cock to shut up and wait.

Despite being turned on and not that tired, Tom managed to fall asleep remarkably easily. As though his dreams were reaching out to drag him into their depths. Where anything and everything was possible. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes: ‘boulangerie’ is a bread shop (though they may also have simple pastries) distinct from a ‘patisserie’ which is entirely pastry-based and fancier.   
> ‘petit déjeuner’ means breakfast, though literally it means “small lunch”. The French use petit/petite an awful lot. 
> 
> I dislike croissants and quite like baguette with butter and jam, therefore so does Loki. And, yes, the cat on Loki’s mug is the same illustration as my AO3 icon.


	3. Falling Between

Falling. 

The sensation grips his insides as the wind in his hair vanishes into empty void. His heart is breaking, but he doesn’t remember why. Flashes of his father’s face, sternly disappointed, but also screaming out a frantic  _ “No!”  _ The images battle in his mind, but in the end, it doesn’t matter why it doesn’t make sense. He failed. At what? That doesn’t matter either. All that matters is the oblivion that  **fails** to take him. Just as he failed. 

Fail...

Failing...

Falling...

Falling……....

  
  


Falllllllllllll….

…

….

  
  


……..

  
  
  
  


_ PAIN.  _

He can’t breathe. Gasping in the cold. Scrabbling to breath.

_ “I’m sorry. I’m a fool.” _

_ Did you ever really love me?  _

And yet.

And yet…? 

And yet you LEFT ME BEHIND. 

_ You’re the fool, not me. You are all fools. You’ll all pay.  _

...

...

_ Falling… _

“I have been falling  _ for half an hour!” _

_ I hate falling. I HATE falling. I hate it I hate it hateit hateithate ithateithaeithateit hateithateithateithateithateithateithateithateithateithateithateit hateithatehatehatehatehatehatehatekillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill _

…

…

Thoughts, spoken from an infinity away drift in.  _ “I’m sorry beloved. Goodbye.” _

…. 

…

...

  
  


_ “Have you been sleeping at all?”  _

_ “Hrmm? No, not really.”  _

_ “You’ve got to sleep.”  _

A pause. 

_ “Why not?”  _

_ “Dreams.” _

_ “Nightmares?” _

_ “No. Well, sometimes. Mostly just… remembering.” _

_ “Ah. I wish I could help.”  _

_ “I should have told him.” _

  
  


Inside Tom’s own head, he screams. Even after everything - the falling, the pain, self-hatred, the murderous aggression - this innocuous,  _ boring  _ conversation is so much worse. It’s wrong, terrifying, heartbreaking. In the logic of dreams, he knows he must get away. He needs to escape. Has to run, flee.  _ Anything _ to keep the words away. He can feel himself scrabbling towards consciousness, like swimming through quicksand. 

Instead, he falls back into the morass. Words float before his eyes in familiar, spiky scrawl. 

_ I could never forgive myself if you fell into his hands. Truly I think it would send me irrecoverably mad. So I must return…  _

Wasn't it supposed to be impossible to read in dreams? Did that mean this  _ wasn’t  _ a dream? 

The screen of an out-of-date mobile takes the place of paper. 

_ Pls come. Need you. _

Indeterminable seconds tick by. 

_ On my way. _

What was this? Tom knew the voices of these people, though some sounded odd. His own hands hold the mobile, but it looks nothing like his Stark Phone, or like any mobile he’s ever had. Granted, Tom has never fallen through endless void either, but an unknown mobile has more reality. More weight. __

  
  


Reality explodes like shattering glass, falling to pieces around him. It splinters his bones and tears his flesh to shreds. Leaving him broken and bloody. 

And falling again. 

  
  


“How did you…” Loki‘s voice is rough with emotion. 

“I didn’t know. I didn’t  _ know,” _ Tom replies. The words flow from him as if rehearsed, like the lines of a play. “He just…” He weeps, heart breaking. “He just… fell.”

He looks up to see Loki, looking much as he does now, but dressed in elaborate black leather armor. Tom can’t help noticing how good he looks, despite the turmoil on the older man’s face. 

“Did he say anything before he fell?” Loki asks.

“He said… he said he loved me. That I was supposed to carry the…” 

Time freezes them in place. Tom has no idea what the end of that sentence might have been. He doesn’t have the script, only the words as he speaks them. Just as suddenly as the world stopped, time wheels backwards in a blur of motion. Tom can barely see anything. Dusty stone, stairs and an arch. Someone terrifying and red. 

Back and back until… 

“You’re certain that this is the place?” This time, Loki’s voice is more like his own, light and free. Tom looks over his shoulder to see… 

To see...

See…

Himself? 

Not a thirty-something Loki, but Tom’s own teenage body. He wears glasses - which Tom very much hopes he’ll never need - but otherwise he’s looking in the mirror. The other Tom smiles at him, like he’s just done something wonderful. 

Tom blinks and looks down at his hands. His skin is paler than usual, moonlight-fair, and there’s a smooth scar on the palm of his left hand. “What?” 

Brilliant green flashes in his vision, and time runs backwards once more. Reversing like a video. 

“You’re certain that this is the place?” 

This time, Tom asks the question. Words from another script, coming from Tom’s mouth. In front of him stands a tall, slim young man with black hair hanging to his waist. This other boy looks over his shoulder towards Tom. The moment before the other turns, Tom  _ knows _ with a deep certainty that the other boy is Loki. Seventeen or eighteen, just like himself. Not twice his age. Not his uncle. Perhaps his brother? Best mate? Boyfriend? Tom doesn’t know. He does know that Loki is just as beautiful as he always has been, and that makes him smile. 

The young Loki frowns at Tom. “What?” He looks down at his hands, just as Tom had done a moment ago. Tom can’t help but do the same. His skin is the right color now, a golden tone, rather than milky-pale. There’s a scar on the palm of his right hand identical to the one he’d seen just a moment before on his left. 

They look up at one another. Tom sees that Loki is frightened and confused. Acid twists in Tom’s throat. He wants to retch. 

Another emerald flash cracks around them like lightning. Again, there’s a whirl of confusion. 

Now they stand side by side, holding hands. Tom tastes cocoa and citrus. Like he just ate a chocolate orange and the flavors linger. A hand that feels like smooth, river-worn stone rests on his shoulder. 

“This is the place,” a woman’s voice says. “Come along.” 

Before Tom can turn to look to see who stands behind him, a burst of rainbow blinds him, and he’s falling again. 

  
  


Now he clings to a cooling, bloody body, only to feel strong, calloused hands trying to drag him away. 

“No. No. Let me go. Let me go! No!” Tom screams. “You fucking bastards, let me go! You killed him! No! Let me go!” 

  
  


Now he begs with no hope. “Please, you’ve got to help me. I know he’s in danger, but I can’t get to him on my own. Please!” 

  
  
  


Every twist he takes drags him down further, choice after choice, each worse than the last. Death, destruction, torture, and worse. And worse and worse and worse. 

  
  
  


“What are you doing here?” 

The voice is a woman’s. The same woman who stood behind him in the dusty rock world, where time ran amok. The woman he couldn’t look at. 

  
  


Tom stumbles through a doorway and collapses to the stone floor. He looks up and sees her. This time he can. No blaze of light takes him away. He sees a woman, but somehow she is multiplied into many women. She’s beautiful. Ageless. Almost genderless, slim and elegant, with pale skin and dark eyes. 

Tom scrambles to his feet. “Do I know you?” 

She looks at him for a long moment. Her clothing changes as he watches. Her hair as well. Blonde and short, long and white, no hair at all, then a pageboy cut that makes his heart pound. 

“Some of you do,” comes the confusing reply. 

Tom blinks. “What?” 

White leather dissolves and reshapes into elegant, golden monastic robes. 

“You… You are at a nexus point. Time shifts around you.” 

Tom rubs at his collarbone. “I don’t understand.” 

She smiles. “I’m not surprised.” 

Tom frowns at her. “Who are you?” 

Her clothing shifts again, to a slim-cut man’s suit. “I am the light end of the gray.” 

“What?” 

“If you look, you will see my names.” She taps a single finger on the center of his chest. A flash of light comes from where they touch. A strange melange of colors. At first he thinks it’s a rainbow - like before - but no. A gas-flame blue which is his heart. A verdant emerald all around him. A sunlit amber, which holds the key. Flashes of ruby and onyx and gold and amethyst. 

Tom catches the azure in his hand, knowing that this is  _ his _ in a way that none of the other colors are. That  _ nothing _ else is. He looks up and makes eye-contact with the woman. Her name is miriad, but he knows them all, somewhere deep inside and beyond himself. 

“Oh.” This woman has been his friend, teacher, lover, reason for living. And dying. “Oh, I see.” 

She smiles. “You do indeed.” 

“But, why are you here? We don’t know each other in this life.” 

“You called me.” 

Tom raises an eyebrow. “I did?” 

“You did. Or perhaps another you did.” 

“I don’t understand. Why?” 

“Does something threaten you? Or your relationship?” 

Tom bites his lip. “Maybe? Loki’s ex-boyfriend just showed up. Loki says that he’s not going to go back to him, but even if he doesn’t…” He looks down at the floor. “It’s dangerous to have him here. If he realizes that we’re together…” 

“That you’re together, not who Loki is?” 

Tom frowns. “What? I mean, yes, sort of, but he knows that already.” 

The woman steps forward with a whisper of silk. Emerald light sweeps across Tom’s vision. 

She steps back again, blinking, eyebrows raised. “Oh. That is… different.” She turns away. 

“What do you mean?” Tom follows her across the room. “What’s different?” 

She shakes her head and looks back over her shoulder at him. “Where are you? In the waking world, where are you now?” 

“Paris. Why?” 

She shakes her head again. “I will see you soon. I cannot stop what is to happen, but I can mitigate it. Trust me.” 

Tom nods. “Okay.” 

She smiles, wide and bright. The smile of an angel, ancient wisdom, and compassion. Of sacrifice. “Thank you.” 

And she is gone. 

The stone beneath his feet vanishes and Tom scrabbles at nothing as he falls again. 

  
  


_ No nonononononononnonononononnnnoooooo!  _

  
  


A hand catches him. It’s huge. Large enough to cover his whole head. 

To hold him effortlessly by the throat…

To choke… to break...

  
  
  
  


“Tom!” 

Tom’s eyes flew open as he spasmed and gasped for breath. Loki held his cheeks, panic flashing in his eyes. 

Tom surged up into his lover’s arms and clung to him. “Oh God, Loki!” 

“I’m here.” 

Tom burst into tears and buried his face against Loki’s neck and chest. 

“Shhh… it’s alright, I’ve got you.” 

The hand soothing against Tom’s back felt like paradise. A blessing. 

Loki rubbed his cheek against Tom’s curls. “I’ve got you, beautiful boy. You’re safe.” 

Tom shook his head. He couldn’t stop crying. Something was horribly wrong, but the words were out of reach, like poisonous smoke. Something massive loomed over him, threatened to swamp them both in a deluge that neither of them could survive. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” 

Tom nodded, then shook his head, face still pressed to Loki’s skin. “More than that.” 

“More than a nightmare?” 

“Do you remember, that first Christmas, you dreamed that Dad was choking you?” 

Loki shuddered. “I do.” 

“It was like that, only… different.” 

Loki pressed a kiss to Tom’s hair. “You stopped breathing too. I heard you scream, but when I came in you were clawing at your throat, like someone… like there was a hand around your neck.” 

Tom nodded and pulled even closer. “Please don’t die on me again,” he whispered. 

“Again?” 

He nodded. “I can’t take it.” 

“Tom, sweetheart, you’re not making any sense.” 

“I know, just… just don’t, okay?” 

“I’ll do my best.” 

There was laughter hiding in Loki’s voice, but Tom nodded. “Come to bed?” he asked in a small voice. 

“I…” 

“Oh my God, you  _ are _ sleeping together.” 

Loki went rigid. “Fuck.” 

All of the blood drained out of Tom. Neither of them had noticed Dr. Strange in the doorway, but when Tom looked up, the American was staring at them with a confusing combination of horror and smug pride. 

Loki pulled away. Grief and despair played over his features as he looked at Tom. “I’m sorry.” 

Tom shook his head and tried to draw Loki back into his arms, but the older man got to his feet and turned to Strange. “You say that as though you’ve had a theory confirmed, Stephen.” His voice was oddly flat. 

“Yeah. I figured I was just seeing things that weren’t there. I didn’t think even you would fuck your own brother’s son.” 

Tom saw red and surged forward, but Loki held a hand out in front him. Tom froze. “Oh?” Loki’s voice was very, very calm. It made Tom’s hair stand on end.  _ “Even _ me?” 

“Loki, don’t act like I’m being unreasonable here. You’re twice his age and he’s your fucking nephew. That is not acceptable for anyone.” 

“Tom is a legal adult, Stephen. He can sleep with whomever he likes.” 

Strange scoffed. “Yeah right.” 

Loki turned to look at Tom. He wore a mask, making it impossible to read his feelings. “When was the last time you slept with someone who wasn’t me?” 

Tom blinked. “Three days ago?” 

“And have I ever given you any reason to think that you should not be in relationships with other people?” 

“No.” 

“And have I ever given you the impression that you weren’t free to leave me at any time?” 

Tom shook his head. “No, but I won’t.” 

A tiny smile curled the corner of Loki’s lips before it was flattened down again by the mask. “And who initiated this relationship?” 

“I did.” 

Dr. Strange snorted audibly. “Seriously? That’s your excuse? The kid made you do it?” 

Loki looked back so quickly his hair whipped through the air. “Do you doubt him?” 

“Loki, you can convince anyone to do anything and make them think it was  _ their _ idea. I’m sure he thinks he initiated this… thing… but I know you. You do what you want, consequences be damned.” Strange looked between the two of them. “Wait, you’re eighteen, right?” 

Tom nodded and shifted on the bed. 

“Holy shit, Loki, how long has this been going on? Was he even  _ legal _ when it started? You’re a fucking child molester!” 

Loki stumbled back a pace as though he’d be struck. He looked at Tom, panic and desperation in his gaze. Tom was so used to Loki being in control, but he clearly didn’t know what to do here. He saw no way out. They’d been caught by someone who would give them up. Turn Loki in. 

Tom scrambled up to stand. “He’s not! Loki’s telling you the complete truth. I initiated all of this. He never gave me any encouragement. I was… fixated, I guess. Obsessed. I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” 

Strange raised an eyebrow. “How old were you?” 

“I was about six weeks short of my sixteenth birthday when it started.” 

“Jesus Christ. Fifteen?” Strange shook his head. “That’s not okay.” 

Tom rolled his eyes. “I’d already been with two other people by then. I was hardly a blushing virgin.”

“Yeah, but I’m guessing those other people weren’t old enough to be your dad. Or, you know, related to you?” 

Tom grit his teeth. It was too much. All of the frustration boiled out of him. 

“For fuck’s sake, don’t you think I know all of this? I’m not an idiot. I graduated top of my class from one of the most prestigious schools in the world. I’m going to fucking Cambridge. I know it’s weird. I know most people think it’s wrong. I know that most people wouldn’t be able to handle this. That most people need to be  _ protected _ from this kind of thing, but I am not most people!” Tom wiped angry tears away with the back of his hand. “I hate that we have to hide. That we can’t live together or anything.” He wanted to say more, that he’d been in love with Loki since he was fourteen. That wanted to marry the older man. But no good would come from voicing  _ that _ desire. It could never happen, and he’d never even expressed it to Loki himself. Tom set a hand on Loki’s rigid shoulder and squeezed. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want this.” 

Loki rested his hand on top of Tom’s and gave him a sad, crooked smile. “I never thought you would still be here by this point,” he admitted. “I thought that you would grow out of this infatuation and move on. I keep expecting you to leave and never come back.” 

Tom’s jaw dropped. “Still? Why would I leave you?” 

Loki sighed. “Because eventually you’ll find someone better. Younger, more attractive.” He shrugged and gave Tom a wry smile. “Not related to you.” 

Tom shook his head. “No. No, I’ve fought for this for too long to just… No. You’re perfect for me, none of the rest of that matters.” 

“Tom…” 

He shook his head. “No, no, no! I will not have anyone tell me how to feel or who to love, not even you. It’s bollocks. I will not give up on something just because it’s difficult. Or because society thinks it’s unethical. No one is being hurt by this.” 

Loki sighed again and looked over to Strange. “Well, doctor, what’s your assessment of the situation?” 

Strange looked back and forth between them again. “This is the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Either you’ve figured out mind control, or he’s serious.” He threw up his hands. “I don’t know.” 

Some of the tension left Loki’s shoulders. “I know this looks bad, but we’ve done our best to make this relationship as…” he waved a hand. “as ethical as it can be.” 

Strange snorted and shook his head. “Even if he weren’t your nephew, you still have a teenage twink boyfriend, Loki.” 

Something snapped in Loki’s demeanor and he leapt forward. Before Tom could do anything, Loki’d grabbed the front of Strange’s shirt and hauled him up the few centimeters until they were eye to eye. “You will  _ not _ insult him,” he growled in a harsh, dangerous voice. 

Tom’s jaw dropped. He’d never seen Loki so angry. After everything that had happened over the last few minutes - which included Loki’s ex-boyfriend calling him a pedo -  _ this _ was what set him off? “Loki, it’s okay.” 

Loki looked over his shoulder at Tom. Something deeply mad lurked in his eyes. “It is not. I will not have your intelligence insulted by this… this...” Loki stopped talking mid-sentence and frowned. He stared at his own hands, gripping Strange, with a look on his face as if he did not know how he had gotten there, or what he was doing. He loosened his grip and took a step backwards. “What… what was I saying?” 

“I think you were about to call me an asshole,” Strange replied, straightening his shirt. 

“No, I wasn’t.” Loki looked up at Tom. “Do you have the feeling like this has happened before?” 

“Deja vu? Sort of.” Tom looked over at the American standing in the doorway. “He’s seemed familiar this whole time.” 

“I do?” Strange asked. “How so?” 

Tom shrugged. He’d spent the day trying to suppress the familiarity that the older man brought. It was so at odds with how he felt that it was easy to ignore. “I don’t know how to explain it. Your voice is wrong though.” 

Strange looked even more confused. “My voice? What the fuck does that even mean?” 

Before Tom could reply, there was a knock at the door. The three men exchanged a startled look. Loki shrugged and walked past Strange to the door. He glanced through the peephole before he opened the door. 

Who on earth would be knocking at the door this late in the evening? As the door opened, Tom had an odd feeling. That this moment was the most important event of his life. The person at the door would change everything. But how? It wasn’t until he heard her voice that he understood.

“Good evening, Loki.” 

Tom started. He shoved past Strange to stand at his lover’s shoulder. 

“You!” 

Standing in the doorway, smiling serenely, was the woman from his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi meta plot! Where've you been hiding? 
> 
> All of the other realities that Tom experiences are already part of my multiverse. Most are from the _Seeking Mischief_ universe, but not all.


	4. The Fracture

“I told you I would come, did I not?” The woman from his dream stood in the hallway outside Loki’s flat. She wasn’t shifting now, but her appearance was still odd. She was bald and garbed in the saffron-colored monastic robes that one of her incarnations wore. 

“I… I don’t exactly remember everything,” Tom stammered. 

“I understand.” She tipped her head. “It’s often difficult to hold onto another reality when one isn’t used to it.” She looked at Loki. “May I come in?” 

Loki looked dumbfounded. “Very well.” He stepped to the side to allow her past, then shut the door. 

Tom hadn’t released how tall she was. Most of the women he interacted with on a regular basis - like his mother or sister - barely reached his chin, but she was almost as tall as Strange, and as thin as Loki. She took in the flat with quick, intelligent eyes, then looked at Strange standing off to the side. “Stephen, it’s good to see you as well.” 

Strange jerked as though he’d been struck. “I didn’t think today could get any more insane, but it officially has.” He stepped fully into the sitting room and glared at Loki. “I’m not letting you off the hook for all this, but we can put it on hold.” 

Loki held out placating hands and inclined his head. “As you like. I don’t want you to do anything against your conscience.” 

Strange gave a brisk nod and turned his attention back to the newcomer. “So, who are you?” 

“I have many names, but you may call me the Ancient One.” 

“Okay, not what I expected.” Strange sat down on the sofa with a thump. “And you know us all, how?” 

“That is somewhat complicated.” She settled onto the chair by the window, spreading the golden robes around her. “Are you familiar with multiverse theory?” 

“Yeah of course,” Strange replied with a scoff. “What, you know all of us from a parallel universe?” 

The Ancient One smiled. “Yes. I knew you were clever enough to understand.” 

Tom snickered at Strange’s gobsmacked expression. “You’ll catch flies like that,” he said nastily. His American grandmother used that expression, and it had never seemed so appropriate. 

Strange’s steely eyes snapped over to Tom. “And what the hell do you know about all this?” 

Tom shrugged. “Not much. Just that a lot of this feels very familiar. It might just be a glitch in the Matrix for all I know.” 

“Young Tom has lit on a striking metaphor here,” the Ancient one said. She gestured between Tom and Loki. “How else would you explain this?” 

Strange frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“That they are identical save for age and a few cosmetic differences.” 

“They’re related. My ex-girlfriend looks almost exactly like her mom; it’s not that weird.” 

The Ancient One’s lips twitched. “That may be how this universe interpreted their similarities, but that isn’t the answer.” 

Tom frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m uncertain how this,” the Ancient One gestured between Tom and Loki with an elegant hand, “happened. The two of you should not coexist without some kind of external influence.” 

Tom looked over at Loki, who wore a pensive expression, then back to the Ancient One. “In most of those dreams I had before you found me, both of us were there. Why shouldn’t we be here together now?” 

“You’ll note I said that you shouldn’t be together without an _external_ influence, not at all.” She leaned back in her chair. “Something - or perhaps several somethings - have caused a fracture to run through the multiverse. Much like a crack in glass, that fracture allows different universes to bleed into one another.” 

Tom puzzled through this. He read a lot of science fiction, so the concept of a multiverse was familiar to him, but he wasn’t sure how it applied here. 

“Wait.” Strange interrupted Tom’s train of thought. “Are you saying that those two are the same person from different dimensions?” 

The Ancient One turned her attention to Strange. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” 

“That’s insane. How?” 

“As I said, there is a fracture running through the multiverse and it centers around them.” Again the Ancient One gestured towards Tom and Loki. “In any given universe one of them may exist, but not both. However, there are hundreds of realities where that is not the case. One or the other of them seeped through the cracks. Like attracts like, so they virtually always end up together.” She smiled. “Often intimately so, even if it is counter to the morality of that time and place.” 

Tom blushed and looked down at his hands, but he saw Loki nodding out of the corner of his eye. 

“That makes a great deal of sense to me,” Loki said. “I would never have acted as I did if there hadn’t been this deep feeling of connection.” He glared over at Strange. “I am not in the habit of sleeping with teenagers - at least not since I was one - no matter what you may think of me.” 

“Just because you haven’t done it a lot doesn't make this okay,” Strange snapped. “There’s a reason this kind of thing is illegal.” 

Tom growled. “We’ve been over this.” 

“And if you don’t want me to go directly to the authorities, we’ll go over it again and again until I’m satisfied that nobody is getting hurt.” 

Tom glared and Strange. Again, he felt this odd sense of familiarity, as though something like this had happened before. Arguing over Loki being in his life with a man nearly identical to Strange. 

Tom started and looked over at the Ancient One. “I know another version of him, don’t I?” He gestured towards Dr. Strange. “Like I know other versions of you.” 

The Ancient One’s serene gaze fell on him. “Almost certainly.” 

Tom nodded to himself. This explained why Strange felt so familiar, but wrong at the same time. If Loki was an example of how Tom himself might be in another universe, then Strange might be fairly different, yet remain familiar. 

“It is very likely that the relationships that your other selves have with one another influence how you feel, even without being a dimensional twin,” the Ancient One added. “These slices of the multiverse are very close to one another.” She caught Tom’s eye. “You trusted me immediately, did you not?” 

“I did. I felt as though I’ve known you my whole life.” 

“In a way you have,” she replied. “You and I have known one another in multiple incarnations.” 

Tom nodded and blushed. “I don’t… I don’t feel like some of those are very applicable right now.” 

She chuckled. “I am aware.” 

Loki gave Tom a sharp look then turned to the Ancient One with a raised eyebrow. “You’re implying that you’ve been in a romantic relationship with another version of…” he trailed off and looked at Tom. “Of… us?” 

“Indeed. And more besides that, but that isn’t why I’m here.” 

“No?” Tom asked. “You told me that you were here because I called you.” 

“And I am, but another requires my presence more urgently than either of you.” 

Tom looked over at Dr. Strange, who glared at the floor. “Him?” 

“Indeed. My destiny in this universe travels alongside his.” 

Strange’s head snapped up to stare at her. “Me?” 

“You, Dr. Stephen Strange. Your fate was altered irrevocably by the car accident that took the use of your hands, but that future is not what you think it is.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

The Ancient One smiled. “That is obvious.” 

Strange glared at her. “You just waltzed in here and declared that we live in a multiverse. That all of us here in this room know each other in other realities, and that’s why my ex is sleeping with his own goddamned, barely-legal nephew. All of that is completely insane, but I’ve managed to follow it. I think I deserve a little credit.” 

She raised an eyebrow, serene under Strange’s barrage. “So you accept that this planet has magic in it? That the world is far more complex than you thought? That there is something beyond what you currently comprehend?” 

“I…” 

The Ancient One got to her feet and looked down at the American with an unwavering gaze. “That you _admit_ that you do not understand is the first step, Stephen Strange. You have understood everything in your life with little effort. That changes today. You became a neurosurgeon because it was a challenge. Are you ready to face a challenge greater than any you’ve seen before?” 

Strange blinked at her, then stood. “I… yes. Yes I am.” 

The Ancient One smiled. “Good. Now keep Tom company while I speak with Loki.” She strode into Loki’s bedroom without a backwards glance. The three men looked at each other with equally gobsmacked expressions. 

Loki scowled at both Tom and Strange. “If I hear shouting, I will come running. Be civil.” He followed the Ancient One into his bedroom and shut the door. 

Tom gazed steadily at Dr. Strange. “You might as well sit. They’ll probably be a while.” 

“Fine.” Strange dropped back down into his seat and glared at a point just beyond Tom’s shoulder. 

When it became clear that silence would rule the room unless Tom did something about it, he cleared his throat. “What made you think that Loki and I were sleeping together?” 

Sharp gray eyes flicked around the room before lighting on Tom again. “There were a lot of little things. Your suitcase was in his room before I got here. Loki had to bring out a blanket and pillow for me, so you clearly hadn’t spent the night on the couch. The dishes from last night’s dinner weren’t done. Loki hates dirty dishes. The only reason he would have left them was because he was fucking someone. You were too comfortable around him, and him you. Too much nudity, too much touching.” He shrugged. “The way you talk about him is telling. You said that _his_ brother is _your_ father. Most people would name the relationship with their parent first. ‘My dad is his brother’ not ‘his brother is my dad.’ Oh, and the apartment smelled like sex when I got here. I didn’t think he would have brought a hookup home with him if you were staying here.” 

Tom attempted to pick his jaw up from the floor. “Loki said you were bad with people.” 

“Oh, I am,” Strange replied. “Mostly because I don’t care. I can see what’s going on, it just usually doesn’t matter. I have an eidetic memory, and yet it took me several months of living with Loki to remember where he kept the coffee.” 

Tom shook his head. “You didn’t care about him.” 

“No, I did. Just… just not enough, I guess.” He shrugged and hung his head. “He’s brilliant and gorgeous, and just enough of an asshole to keep me on my toes. But you’re right, I didn’t… It just wasn’t meant to last. We’re too much alike.” 

Silence fell again. 

“What are you going to do?” Tom asked. “About… about him and me?” 

Strange rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re an adult now. I don’t know how incest laws work here - or in the UK - but I’m betting you’d have to object for anything to really stick.” He met Tom’s gaze with an even look of his own. “You swear that he never coerced you? That he never tried to make you more dependent on him, or anything like that?” 

Tom shook his head. “Never. He tried to talk me out of it. Several times, actually. I think… I think that since he wasn’t around much when I was a kid, he really felt more like a friend than a relative. After you two broke up, he spent about a week at our house while my parents and sister were away. He house-sat and kept an eye on me since I was barely fourteen at the time. That’s when it started for me. He never did anything other than be my friend, but I fell for him hard.” Tom shrugged and folded in on himself. “If he’d known what was going on in my head at the time, Loki would have been horrified. My voice hadn’t even broken yet. I was just a kid, but he didn’t treat me like I was stupid or… or too innocent to know about the world. He took me seriously and treated me like I was an equal. He’s gorgeous and the coolest guy I’d ever met, how could I not fall for him?” 

“You already knew you were gay?” 

Tom nodded. “Oh yeah. I’d had that driven home way before that. I thought for a while I might be bi, but I’ve never felt the need to explore things with girls. I might, once I’m at uni, but we’ll see.” 

Strange frowned at him. “Loki’s seriously fine with you seeing other people?” 

“Of course,” Tom replied. “He insisted on that, too. He said it was important that I have experiences beyond him, even though I wanted it to _just_ be him. Of course it seems normal to me now. A lot of guys at school had girlfriends or boyfriends at home and messed around with other people while we were all there. My first boyfriend was like that.” He chuckled. “I’m guessing from what Loki’s said, that’s kind of a tradition at the older public schools.” 

Strange frowned, then shook his head. “Right, ‘public school’ means something different for you Brits. I cannot get used to that one.” He sighed. “So you two are polyamorous?” 

“Basically, though of course neither of us can ever give anyone the details of _our_ relationship. I’m not in any other relationships at the moment, but that hasn’t always been the case. And before you ask, the guy that I slept with a few days ago was a friend from school and it was a one-time thing.” 

Strange tilted his head to the side. “I can see him wanting to have other relationships besides you, if he was trying to manipulate you, but a completely open relationship?” He sighed. “I still think it’s not a great idea, but I admit that you’re fully consenting.” 

“Even if I was fifteen when it started?” 

Strange snorted. “Honestly, I think most fifteen year olds are getting it on more than adults want to believe. I certainly was. I was an _idiot_ at fifteen, but I would have argued just as vehemently that I knew my own mind. Whether that’s true or not… well, I’m not a psychologist, so I can’t say for certain.” 

A bit of tension left Tom’s shoulders. “Thanks.” 

“You seem like a smart kid, but Loki is _really_ persuasive. He probably could have manipulated you into being dependent on him, or unquestionably obedient, or something. But it seems like he’s gone to the effort of _not_ doing that instead. Honestly, he seems to really care about you.” 

Tom smiled. “So you’re not going to turn us in?” 

“No, I’m not. I still think that Loki made a bad decision when he agreed to this relationship. He has to live with that.” Strange paused for a moment, frowning. “Tell you what, if things do go bad, I want you to be able to reach out to me, okay?”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “You?” 

“I’m the only other person who knows about this, right?” 

Tom frowned. “Well, the Ancient One knows, but I’ve never told a soul, and I’m certain Loki hasn’t either.” 

Strange nodded. “Exactly. It gives you a way to talk to someone if it looks like things are going south and you’re worried, without having to go into detail with someone else.” 

Tom inclined his head, but continued to look steadily at Strange, who finally sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to drive you two apart, or insert myself back into Loki’s life. Or yours. I just… If something went really wrong, I’d feel like a jackass that I didn’t do something about it now, okay?” 

“Ah. That makes sense. Okay.” Tom pulled his mobile out of his pocket. “Give me your email so I’ll have it if there’s an emergency.” 

Strange complied, and the two of them sank into a slightly more comfortable silence. A few minutes later, Loki and the Ancient One emerged. Loki looked… worried. 

“Is everything okay?” Tom asked. 

Loki dropped down beside Tom on the sofa and pulled him into a fierce hug. “It will be,” he muttered. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this.” 

“You didn’t drag me into anything,” Tom objected. 

“Not knowingly, no, but…” He pulled away. “We can talk about this later.” 

“Okay.” Tom looked over at the Ancient One. “Did you need to speak with me at all?” 

She shook her head. “Not at the moment. If the occasion arises, I can reach out directly, as you did to me.” 

“In my dreams, you mean?” 

“Yes.” She turned to Strange. “Are you ready to leave?” 

He started. “Just like that?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Does anything keep you here?”

Strange looked at Tom, then at Loki. “No. I guess not.” He got to his feet. “Where are we going?” 

“Nepal.” The Ancient One smiled at the men’s dumbfounded expressions. “You will be able to return if needed, after a time. Come along.” 

Strange picked up his rucksack and took a step towards the door. 

“Not that way.” The Ancient One reached out and formed a circle in the air with one hand. As they watched, a fiery ring appeared in the air along the line of her movements, easily large enough for any of them to walk through. Beyond the ring, they could see a stone courtyard. She nodded to Loki and Tom. “I will see you gentlemen again soon.” With that, she walked through the portal. 

Strange hesitated. “Loki, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I thought you…” he looked at Tom. “Well, I’m sorry.” 

Loki nodded. “I understand. Your heart was in the right place.” 

Strange gave him a crooked smile. “For once.” 

Loki chuckled. “You said it, not me.” 

The two men embraced - a quick, hard hug - and Strage smiled at Tom. “Thanks for being honest with me.” 

Tom nodded. “Of course.” 

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” With that, Strange stepped through the portal. The fiery ring vanished a second later. 

The moment they were alone, Loki pulled Tom into a tight hug and kissed his cheek. “Thank God. I thought I’d lost you.” 

“Me too.” Tom squeezed as hard as he could. “I couldn’t live with myself if…” He pulled away just enough to dive in for a proper kiss. Loki returned the kiss, holding on to Tom like he might vanish. It was only when they were both desperate for air that the pair pulled apart. 

“We… Loki, we need to figure some things out.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

“I don’t want to… to stay away anymore. I want us to be together, but… but safely. I just don’t know how that’s possible.” 

Loki hesitated. “There may be a way, but I… I’ll need to go away for a while.” 

“What?” 

“I…” Loki looked at the spot where the Ancient One’s portal had been a moment before. “She told me that I could learn magic. Like Stephen. That because of who we are in other universes, it would be possible.” 

“But…” Tom trailed off. “How would that help?” 

“It would mean that I can look like someone else, Tom. That’s our main difficulty, that you and I are so alike. But if one of us didn’t look like the other, then we’d be safe. I could appear to be another person. Your own age, and not…” Loki’s pale eyes drifted over Tom’s face. “Not nearly identical. We’d still know the truth, but anyone who looked in from the outside would see you with another man.” 

Tom’s eyes went wide. “Really?” 

Loki nodded. “She said that such an illusion should be easy for me.” He looked down at his hands. “Sometimes I can feel it just below my skin. Something… something cold and bright and quick. But it means I’ll have to study with her for a while.” 

Tom swallowed hard. “How long?” 

“It depends on how easily I pick it up. At least a year. Probably longer.” Loki shrugged. 

“A year?” A year seemed like forever. “But… but I was hoping that we could…” 

Loki shook his head and stepped forward to pull Tom into his arms. “I could still visit you. Or you me. We’d likely see one another almost as often as we do now, but once I know enough…” he looked up at Tom and hesitated. “Is that something you would want?” 

Tom thought about it. He’d been hoping that Loki might move to Cambridge so they could be closer together, not to _Nepal._ But potentially, this could make their lives so much easier. If Loki could appear to be another person, it would be worth it. 

Tom grinned. “Of course! If we could be together openly? Well, sort of openly. That sounds wonderful.” Tom’s mind flooded with all the dreams he’d thought impossible. That he could treat Loki as his lover, even with his family. That they could live together and not have to hide that they were more than kin. But Loki’s expression still seemed hesitant. “How could I not want that?” .

Loki chewed on his lower lip. “I wasn’t certain if you would.” 

“Well I do.” 

“Alright.” 

“Loki, what’s wrong? Do you not want this too? Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

“I do want it, I do. It’s just that…” Loki picked up one of Tom’s hands and traced a gentle finger over Tom’s knuckles. “If I embrace this, embrace the magic rather than ignoring it, it may… it _will_ change things. The Ancient One told me that the crack she described - the one that allows us to be together now - is most likely because of something that another version of me did. Accepting this aspect of myself, this magical talent, will make us…” Loki paused. “We will become more obvious to the rest of the multiverse. Sorcerers by their nature are in tune with other dimensions. If I do this, something may come looking for us.” 

“Us?” 

Loki nodded and squeezed Tom’s hand. “You and me. Possibly the rest of our family as well. I don’t know for certain if it will be dangerous, but it might be. That’s what she told me. That I could become a sorcerer in this universe, but there would be a cost, and possibly great danger.” 

“Oh.” Tom thought for a moment. “What if I wasn’t a factor? If it was just… just for yourself, would you do it?” 

Loki sat quietly, still running his fingers over the back of Tom’s hand. Finally he spoke. “I would. I can feel this power like a second heartbeat.” Loki pressed Tom’s hand to his chest, as though Tom might be able to feel it too. “I think I always could. I think that this is what I’ve been looking for. Why I could never settle down. I’ve been missing something, and here it is.” He looked up and met Tom’s gaze. “That it will make our lives easier is wonderful, but even if we weren’t together, I would want this.” 

Tom smiled. “Okay. Good. You should go for it then.” 

“Even if it means that it might bring danger into our lives?” 

Tom shrugged. “We’ve always been in danger, just because of who we are and how we feel about each other.” 

“True.” Loki smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “You’re certain about all this?” 

Tom nodded enthusiastically and returned the kiss. “If you can learn that magic portal thing that the Ancient One did, it’ll make everything much easier. If nothing else, you can run away if someone does come after you.” 

Loki chuckled. “Don’t think I hadn’t already considered that.” 

“I was pretty sure you had.” Tom kissed Loki again, and this time there was no hesitance on either of their parts. A moment later, he pulled away. “Here’s what I’d like.” 

“Yes?” 

“I’d like to stay here for a few extra weeks, if that’s okay with you?” 

Loki grinned. “It sounds wonderful.” 

“Great.” Tom kissed him again. 

“You do have to go back eventually. I can’t take you to Nepal with me.” 

Tom waved a hand. “I know. You can go off to learn to be a wizard while I’m at uni. By the time we’re both done, we should be set. Yes?” 

Loki chuckled. “Yes. I don’t know what kinds of responsibilities I’ll have, but we can figure out something.” 

“Good.” Tom slipped his hands up into Loki’s hair and pulled him into another kiss. “Now, I’m fairly certain that we had a date with your bed some time ago.” 

“Mmm, yes we did. And I, for one, am extremely grateful for what we have right now.” 

“Me too. Take me to bed?” 

Loki kissed Tom before pulling him to his feet. “I’d like nothing better.” 


End file.
